Page 58 of Xavier

She frowns, and all I can think about is kissing the frown off her pouty lips.

“But I told you my favorite color, and it wasn’t my turn to answer.”

“Fine, I’ll tell you, since you’re changing the rules. My favorite season is spring.”

Bri quirks an eyebrow for me to elaborate, but I shake my head. “That wasn’t part of the rules.”

“I bet that’s when your birthday is and secretly you love surprise parties and that’s why you love springtime.”

I shake my head.

She rolls her eyes and huffs out, “Fine. Don’t tell me, just deal the next hand.”

Giving in, I quietly say, “Truthfully, I missed seeing greenery while I was deployed to the desert. When I was finally back stateside, I would sit outside for hours and stare at the flowers blooming.”

“Oh,” she says quietly and I watch as her expression morphs from annoyance to understanding. “Ohhh. Damn, I feel stupid.”

“No need. It’s something that most people take for granted. I sure as shit did.”

To try to lighten the mood, I shuffle the cards and deal another hand. She wins this round, restoring her happiness.

She doesn’t have to think up another question. “When’s your birthday?”

“The twentieth of February.” Turning the topic to her, I ask, “When’s yours?”

“July 17.”

We continue playing and asking questions, no matter who wins.

She wins and asks, “Are you a dog person or a cat person?”

“Either. I’ve never been a pet owner. Not as a child and not as an adult.”

“I’ve always wanted a dog, but Dad said no. I’ve dreamed of playing fetch with my dog on the beach.”

Her eyes glaze over as she pictures herself playing with a dog.

I can see it. She’d be great with a big, playful dog. Like a golden retriever or a labrador. Maybe even a husky or a Saint Bernard.

A craving begins to build inside me. I want to give her everything she wants and then some.

I want to show her the world and make her dreams a reality.

When we are in the middle of a hand, she perks up and asks, “What was your favorite place to vacation growing up?”

“My family never took vacations, but during spring break of my senior year, me and a few friends flew to Cabo for the week.”

“That sounds fun, but seriously? No vacations? Did your parents work all the time and not take any days off?”

“My mom wasn’t around, and my dad and I didn’t get along.”

“Really?” she asks, while leaning closer to me to pat my hand.

“Yeah, really. It shouldn’t come as a surprise. I mean, I enlisted just to get out of the house and away from him.”

Her mouth falls open as if she can’t believe I’d admit that out loud.

I shrug. “It’s the truth. I hated my childhood. I wasn’t happy, and the military was a guaranteed paycheck with a roof over my head.”

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